


Just Ask

by pringlesaremydivision



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Charlie Has a Big Dick, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 02:55:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11682552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pringlesaremydivision/pseuds/pringlesaremydivision
Summary: Mac’s been trying to get a better look at Charlie’s dick for two solid months now.





	Just Ask

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SunnyRarePairs](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SunnyRarePairs) collection. 



> The prompt was _Charlie has a big dick. Like, woah._
> 
> _It was a total accident that Mac saw it. Really. But now he can't stop thinking about it._
> 
> _He keeps trying to "accidentally" see it again._
> 
> _Charlie notices. Things get weird._
> 
> Imagine them whatever ages you'd like - I thought fifteen or sixteen was good personally, but you do you!
> 
> Content warning for a couple uses of the f-slur.

Mac’s been trying to get a better look at Charlie’s dick for two solid months now.

It’s not his fault, okay? If Charlie would just be like normal dudes, hanging out in his boxers when it’s hot out instead of those _stupid_ dirty white long johns—“they radiate body heat, man, they’re keeping me cool!” Charlie says indignantly when Mac yells at him, and Mac’s too tired and too warm to argue with him, to point out that none of that makes any sense—or showering after gym instead of just throwing his clothes back on over his nasty, sweaty body—”I can shower at home, it’s fine!” meanwhile Mac can smell him coming from a mile away—then Mac wouldn’t have to try so hard.

* * *

“Let’s go skinny-dipping, man,” Mac slurs, four-beers-buzzed and languid from the heat wave rolling over Philly. “C’mon, we can— let’s go over to the river and just. Jump in.”

Charlie raises his eyebrows at him, chugs the rest of his beer and throws the bottle against the side of the house. It’s cooler outside than in, because Mrs. Kelly thinks there’s something in the air conditioning that’s gonna hurt her, but the difference is barely palpable. Mac’s discarded his shirt hours ago, but Charlie’s still stubbornly clothed, sweat soaking through the grey fabric of his tee, darkening it, molding it to his body.

“I’m not jumping in the fucking Schuylkill, dude, they dredged out four bodies last month.”

“You hang around in the sewers!”

“There aren’t dead bodies in the sewers, Mac!” Charlie yells, then stops, considering. “Well, there was that one homeless guy that one time who mighta been dead, I don’t know.” He opens up a new bottle of beer and drinks half of it in one gulp. “Point is I’m not going skinny-dipping with you, dude.”

Mac throws his own empty bottle against the house, the resulting crash not nearly satisfying enough.

If he notices Charlie side-eyeing him, he doesn’t remember it the next day.

* * *

As it is, the most skin Charlie ever shows is when he takes off his shirt when they’re at the dive pool, and even that’s like pulling teeth. Every single time, Mac has to explain that _no_ , it’s not normal to leave your shirt on, and you’ll probably drown because of the extra weight, Charlie, and come on, man, there’s nothing to be ashamed of— 

Because Charlie’s littler than him, and scrawny as hell, but he still looks pretty nice. Not that Mac cares, or anything. He doesn’t. It’s just that Charlie’s got this trail of hair that starts at his belly button and leads down into his shorts, and Mac—he’s just curious, that’s all. Wonders if it’s as soft as the hair on Charlie’s head is, after he washes it. It looks soft. Looks like it’d be nice to run his thumb over, maybe. See if it would make Charlie laugh, or—or what.

* * *

“Bro! There’s free porn at my house!”

“Is your mom home?”

“Nah, she’s working a double, she’ll be gone all day. Come over!”

This, Mac reasons, _has_ to work. It’s impossible to not get turned on at porn, and if you’re turned on, you’re gonna wanna jack off, and why ruin your pants by coming in them if you don’t have to? Charlie’s definitely gonna have to pull his dick out at some point.

Mac doesn’t really feel like pulling out his own dick but whatever, he’ll do what he has to do.

Turns out, half an hour into the movie, that Charlie doesn’t give a damn about coming in his pants. For his part, Mac gets eye strain from trying to look at Charlie without actually _looking_ at Charlie, sprays a bunch of jizz on his favorite shirt, and has nothing but Charlie’s soft grunts echoing in his ears for his troubles.

* * *

The _what_ is what has Mac really curious, if he’s being honest. Because one time, _one time_ , two months ago now, near the end of the school year, he’d managed to coax Charlie into taking a shower after gym class, because the kid looked sweaty and disgusting and miserable and it was 95 degrees out and he smelled like a dumpster and Mac wasn’t gonna deal with it, not that day. He promised he’d stand guard, make sure nobody else came into the showers while Charlie was cleaning up. And sure, he shouldn’t have looked, but Charlie asked him for a towel after he was done, and Mac had turned to give it to him, and his eyes dropped down, and— 

Dennis had shown them all some of his dad’s porno mags a few summers ago, spreading them out like a feast and pointing out his favorite girls, tracing the lines of their enormous breasts with reverence, like he was looking at some fine art bullshit in a museum. Mac had been impressed—some of those tits looked like they were inflated, like there should’ve been a valve to blow them up on the side somewhere—and he’d made all the right noises about the chicks, but what really drew his eye was the couple guys who were scattered throughout the magazine. It was just a comparison thing, really. It’s not like their dicks, like, _turned him on_ or anything like that. He just wanted to know how he sized up. If he got a feeling low in his stomach at their buff arms, if his mouth watered at the long lines of their thighs, that was just—look, hormones fucked everything up. It didn’t mean anything.

* * *

“Strip poker, Mac? Are you serious?”

“Sure,” Dennis nods in agreement, swigging from the bottle of whiskey he’d stolen from his dad’s liquor cabinet, his lips wet and shiny. “Why not?”

“Uh, because it’s three dudes and your gross sister?”

“Hey!” Dee squawks. Mac ignores her and turns to Charlie.

“What, are you chicken? Worried you’re gonna get a boner?”

“I’m not chicken, man, I just don’t see why we gotta—”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Dennis interrupts, “and it’s my house.” He takes another sip and sets the bottle down. “So we’re doing it.”

Mac’s pretty sure Dennis just wants to play because he’ll take any excuse to pop his shirt off, but whatever. Charlie’s gonna look like a pussy if he backs out now.

Dennis goes upstairs and comes back with a deck of cards, still wrapped in plastic. “Five card draw, are we doing winner gets to pick who strips, or loser strips automatically?”

“Loser strips automatically,” Mac answers quickly. The other way, the only safe option is to pick Dee every time because she’s the only girl and the only one he _should_ want to see naked, only he doesn’t want to see her naked because _ew_. This way it’s much more even playing ground.

Theoretically. 

Within two hands Mac is down to his boxers. The next round, Dennis loses his shirt, and the one after that, Dee shrugs off her shorts so she’s sitting in her panties and a big tee-shirt.

Five rounds, Dennis is in boxer briefs, and goddamn Charlie? Goddamn Charlie is sitting there in everything he came in wearing. He’s not even _good_ at poker, it’s just apparently everyone else is really, really bad.

Mac crumples his cards and throws them on the table. “Fuck this, I’m going home.” He swipes his clothes from the ground and jams his legs into his pants as he clambers up the stairs, nearly tripping twice. He’s seeing red.

“Mac, what the hell?” he hears Dennis yell from the table in the basement, and Dee muttering “what the fuck is his problem?”

Mac doesn’t hear anything from Charlie before he slams the door to the Reynolds house.

* * *

Anyway, the glimpse of Charlie’s dick that Mac had gotten, there in the locker room at St Joe’s after everyone else had gone home—it hadn’t been _quite_ as huge as the dicks in those magazines, but goddamn if it wasn’t close. And Mac didn’t think Charlie had been all the way hard, either, although he definitely had at least a little chub going on, because he looked embarrassed as shit when Mac handed him the towel, wet skin flushed deep red and his hands all shaky, turning his back to Mac as soon as possible.

The point is, Charlie’s packing a fucking monster under his disgusting filthy jeans, and Mac is dying for another look. Just a look, that’s all.

* * *

It’s after one in the morning, Mac’s mom is passed out on the couch, and though they’ve got the windows completely open in Mac’s room the air is stifling, not even a hint of a breeze playing at the curtains. 

“Charlie, why don’t we—”

“Oh my god, why don’t we what, Mac?” Charlie asks, voice higher than normal and more than a little frantic. “Why don’t we what? You wanna take our clothes off and wrestle? You wanna go play naked in the sprinklers like we did when we were kids? Maybe play, I don’t know, strip go fish or something?”

So this is it, then.

“I don’t—” Mac’s got a sick feeling twisting through his guts. “Don’t know why you’re suggesting all that faggot stuff, man…” he trails off when Charlie starts to laugh, and he can feel his face start to heat up. He’s gotta get out of here, but Charlie’s blocking the door. He’s gonna puke.

“Yeah dude, I’m the faggot when you’ve been trying to get me naked all summer. Look, I know you guys think I’m an idiot and maybe I am, but I’m not completely—I’m not blind.” His hands drop to the fly of his jeans, and he toys with the button for a minute before popping it open, his gaze darting between his feet and Mac’s face. “You wanna see my dick, man? Is that what it is?”

“I—” Mac’s mouth is cotton-dry. _Fuck._ “Yeah,” he whispers. He bites his lip. “Yeah, Charlie, I wanna see your dick.”

Charlie nods jerkily, shuffling forward away from the door. He stands in front of where Mac’s sitting on his bed, hands still playing at his fly. “I—okay,” he murmurs, then pulls the zipper down, the sound loud in the quiet of the room. Mac’s kneading the quilt underneath his hands, digging his fingernails into the fabric, anything to keep him from grabbing Charlie’s hips and finishing the job himself. This has gone from zero to sixty so fast he’s got whiplash but he doesn’t even care, so long as Charlie keeps going.

“Charlie,” he breathes. “Come on.” It feels like every one of his nerve endings is on fire, waiting for this.

“Don’t fuckin’ rush me, dude,” Charlie mutters, letting his jeans drop to the floor, pooling around his ankles. He hesitates for a moment, then hooks his thumbs in the fabric of his briefs and tugs them down, agonizingly slowly. Mac groans at the flash of skin that’s exposed, then slaps his hand over his mouth, mortified. Charlie looks up at him and grins crookedly.

“Like what you see, big boy?” He says it high and breathy, like the chick from the porno they watched together a few weeks ago, and they both crack up, stifling their laughter so Mac’s mom doesn’t hear.

“Like it more if I could _see_ anything,” Mac whines, when their laughter’s died down, and Charlie glares at him. “What? Don’t be a fucking—don’t be a cocktease, Charlie.”

“Don’t be a _bitch_ , Mac,” Charlie retorts. Mac opens his mouth to shoot back when Charlie unceremoniously pushes his underwear the rest of the way down, leaving him bare from the waist down, and— _Jesus, Mary, and Joseph_ , that’s. That’s.

“Holy _shit_.”

Charlie grins, teeth bright in the half-dark. “Shut up.”

“Can I—” Mac coughs. “Can I touch you, man?” He wasn’t planning on doing anything but looking, just a glance to satisfy his curiosity, to satiate this hunger that’s been gnawing at him since that afternoon in the showers. But seeing Charlie like this, it hasn’t satisfied anything. It’s just made that hunger, that _need_ , even worse. His fingers itch to grip and tug and his mouth is watering. “Lemme touch you, Charlie, _please_.”

He’s not even ashamed that he’s begging.

“Yeah, fuck,” Charlie says, shuffling closer, feet tangling in his jeans. He stops for a moment, stepping out of them, then comes close enough that Mac can feel the heat from his body, the bare skin of his lower half radiating like a furnace in the space between them. “You gonna let me touch you too?”

“Whatever you want, anything, just. Jesus. Come here.” Mac scoots back, fingers fumbling at the drawstring of his shorts, pushing them and his underwear down at the same time. He’s sure his cock looks pathetic next to the monster Charlie’s got, but there’s a heat in Charlie’s eyes that makes him think Charlie doesn’t really care.

Charlie scrambles up on the bed, all knees and elbows, and ends up straddling Mac’s lap, his dick hanging hot and heavy, tenting up the bottom of his dirty t-shirt. Mac groans at the weight of him on his thighs, his head tipping back against the wall with a thud. “I’m gonna—”

Charlie takes Mac’s hand and wraps it around his dick. “This what you wanted?” Charlie’s voice is shaky but his grip is sure as he guides Mac’s hand up and down, moaning as Mac catches on. He draws his hand away and Mac does his best to mimic the rhythm Charlie’s started, watching as Charlie’s eyes flutter shut. Charlie leans forward, lets his head roll onto Mac’s shoulder, and lets out little puffs of breath onto Mac’s sweaty neck that leave Mac thrusting up against him, hungry for more.

“Jesus you feel so good,” he says in a rush, voice tinged with awe. The head of Charlie’s dick is bumping up against his stomach, smearing wetness on his skin, and he knows he should be disgusted but all he can think of is how he wants Charlie to get him really messy, cover him from chest to belly in his come, make him jerk off with it afterwards.

Charlie lets out a moan, pulling back and looking at him wide-eyed, and Mac realizes with a jolt that he must’ve been talking out loud. He should be mortified but Charlie looks so glazed, so nearly gone, that Mac doesn’t even have it in him to feel embarrassed.

“You serious?”

“Wanna see you shoot,” he gasps, the muscles in his forearm burning as he tugs at Charlie faster, harder. “Come on, Charlie, come on me.”

“God, Mac, yeah—fuck, fuck, _yeah_ ,” Charlie pants, and then Mac feels the first spurt, hot and wet, against his stomach. He bucks up so hard he nearly topples Charlie off his lap but manages to steady them both, groaning when Charlie paints his skin with ropes of come, feeling filthy and so close to coming himself that he can feel it in his fingertips.

“Do it,” Charlie says when he’s caught his breath, and Mac looks at him with confusion. Charlie nods to the mess on Mac’s chest, his face flushed, then gestures at Mac’s dick. “What you said you wanted. Jerk—jerk off with my come.”

“Jesus Christ,” Mac swears, dizzy with need. “Jesus Christ, that’s fucked.”

“You’re the one who said it, dude,” Charlie counters, and Mac can’t argue with that. He swipes a hand through the jizz on his stomach then wraps his fingers around his aching cock, whimpering and arching up. He closes his eyes as he jacks himself, knowing he’s not far from coming. Distantly, he hears Charlie shift around on the bed. Before he knows what’s happening, another hand is on his dick, knocking his fingers away, and he groans at the unfamiliar feeling.

“Tighter,” he whines. “Fuck, Charlie, please.” Charlie obliges, fingers wrapped around Mac’s slick cock in a nice tight grip, and Mac snaps his hips up, fucking into Charlie’s hand. “God, I’m gonna—”

Charlie milks him through it, tugging at him until Mac bats him away, shaky and oversensitive. He’s exhausted and he knows he’s a disaster, sweat and come smeared all over him, but he’s never felt better in his _life_. For the first time, he gets what Dennis is talking about when he says sex is amazing. 

“Hey, Mac?” Charlie murmurs, sounding half-asleep next to him, and Mac forces his eyes open to look over. 

“What’s up?”

“Next time you wanna see my dick, just like.” Charlie lets out a yawn, then settles back down on the pillow. “Just ask, dude.”

Mac snorts. “Go to sleep, Charlie.”


End file.
